Evan Ponter

Evan Ponter Apr 2014

His words stitched like rail road ties
through sentiment and simile.
His fingers like slaves to emotions in his brain.

The hum of his instrument,
so rich and so right.
Constructing soundtracks to stories
about what it means to be alive.

Tapping beats from the back of his thigh,
bop-bop, doo-woop.
Turning feeling into vibrations
that shake the walls of the bus station.

What change he got shaking like a tambourine
inside his cardigan pocket.
The gold trim on his six string
shines like a locket under bright orange lights.

I called him the Musician.
his mother called him Bentley.
his father never called,
the streets called him crazy.

His audience passing cars.
Cigarette butts and trashed plastics.
The Musician waxed and waned
as the world kept on passing.

My life is my story. I'd love if you continued reading by giving me a follow on Instagram/Twitter. (@evanponter)

#poetry #music #losangeles #homeless #poverty #hiphop #urban #freeverse #musician #beat

Evan Ponter Dec 2013

Lost Angeles

Helicopter blades chop through arid air
sirens fill space off in the distance.
Somewhere, someone still believes
the promise of prosperity
the American dream
but not much really lives in Lost Angeles
**** roaches and coyotes.

Police spotlights eye-ing up dilapidated
housing developments like a ***** show.
Cops driving slow on streets
that form lines like dope trails
like they're looking for crack
on skid row
or *****
on Hollywood Boulevard
or someone to talk to
on the last train to Union Station.

Helicopter blades chop through arid air
sirens fill space off in the distance.

I wrote this during a hard time living in Los Angeles. The city can drive you crazy. It's full of spirits and vibes and authority. It's a dizzying experience and sometimes you feel lost.

#growingup #losangeles #city #struggle #police #authority

Evan Ponter Dec 2013

Thoughts on a Sunday Morning Alcohol Withdrawal

Budweiser cans lay on the floor like empty mortar rounds,
the smell of Jack Daniels as potent as battlefield blood.

Weekend wars where we fight ourselves for pleasure.
Waging conquest on the banal.
Losing limbs and liver for a life less ordinary.

The air in my apartment is stale like cigarette butts,
buried in mass graves in an ashtray over full.

Weekend warriors where we battle for a new fix.
Waging conquest on the week day.
Losing steady vision for a life less ordinary.

Evan Ponter Feb 2013

When Distance Is What You Hope For

Asking the timepiece on my wrist
to dial the seconds back
so I could be sleeping in a bed
with our bodies back to back.

No I can't breathe
when the thought comes to me
of brittle bones that break into the sea.
The maps stuck in my pockets
drawing inches in the sand
recounting miles in the window seat
my hand melts in your hand.

I just want you
to smile
not for me
but for all the things we've discovered from the wind shaking the tress.

I can't believe in something more
when I can't believe in you and me.
Splitting moments with a scalpel
stitched spontaneity on my sleeve.

If hope is an expression of distance
it's my turn to turn my back.
When distance is what you hope for
it's your turn to turn right back.

And I just smile, and I just smile.
And I can't believe, no I can't breathe.

Evan Ponter Feb 2013

Stagnant

That familiar path,
It's like I never looked back.
Outside my head,
Everything is dead and cold
And out of my control.

And its safe to say,
That the lingering scent of your skin
Is not going away.
Every day,
I relive the pain
Of walking in and out of doors
And letting you fly away.

Clip your wings,
Write you a song to sing.
And scatter every little part of my creeping calm
into the wind.

Hold back a smile,
Just like old times.
And sink the rib that I ripped from the calendar
right into him.

Evan Ponter Jan 2013

You Don't See It Like I Do

I'm sorry that when you think of the past
you don't see it like i do
instead of sharing skin inside blades of grass
you don't think of it like i do
where grey clouds are always out
you don't remember it like i do
where blue skies shined all the time
i just can't help but think
you don't see it like i do

— The End —